


I Always Know

by Cat_Francis



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2392607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Francis/pseuds/Cat_Francis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is having trouble focusing; Molly claims he owes her a dance. Set sometime after HLV. (Submitted for the Sherlolly Cafe Awards: SC3 ["I Know" by Fiona Apple] )</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Always Know

Molly was steadily working through a massive pile of dull paperwork, bobbing her head along to the music she was listening to, when Sherlock burst into her office with more than the usual gusto. Molly simply paused the music, took out her earbuds, and looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Something bothering you, Sherlock?"

He began to pace through the doorway, out into the hall and back in front of her desk. "It's this case. Nothing seems to make sense. I can't put it together. It's like there's a block in my head but I don't know how to get past it."

"And you thought a trip to the morgue would help?"

Sherlock threw his hands up in a gesture of exasperation. "John- or rather, Mary has locked me out of their flat because of the baby so I can't talk to John. And apparently murders aren't an appropriate topic of conversations around babies. Not that it matters, little Charlotte will hardly understand what we're talking about. And ironic considering Mary's colourful past."

"And I'm your second choice? I'm flattered. The skull doesn't work any more, huh?"

"Mrs Hudson has hidden it again and with more than her usual cleverness."

"Ah, well third choice isn't terrible," she smiled. But she knew Sherlock wasn't paying attention. As he continued to pace, she could see a faraway look in his eyes and he kept running his hands through his hair in frustration. She wished he would stop; it was very distracting and she was desperately trying not to blush.

She knew his mind was racing a million miles an hour and that was why he couldn't focus: too many thoughts demanding his attention. She spotted the iPod lying on the desk. An idea sparked and before she lost the courage, she said, "I think you owe me a dance."

He stopped pacing abruptly and looked at her, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. She had certainly gotten his attention. "I'm sorry?"

"At John and Mary's wedding. You left without dancing and you mentioned to me once that you were forced to take dance lessons. I thought you'd have jumped at the chance to show off that particular set of skills."

"I didn't have a partner; Janine had found someone else. But I didn't think anyone had noticed."

"A-about your lessons? It wasn't really something I was likely to forget-"

"No. My leaving early. I didn't think anyone had noticed," he said slowly. "You did."

"I did. And I would have said something too, but Tom was there and he was already upset that I hadn't supported his ridiculous meat-dagger theory and-"

"You still noticed."

"Haven't you learned by now, Sherlock? I always notice and I always know." Molly said, hardly louder than a whisper. Then, in a more confident, teasing voice, she continued, "For example, I know you need to calm down and stop the swirling torrent of thoughts in your head; I know you need something to concentrate on. So, you owe me a dance."

Sherlock swallowed and looked slightly pale. "Do you have any music?"

"I do, actually," she smiled, reaching over to unplug her head phones and play the music she had been listening to. A languid jazz song filled the office with its sultry tones. Sherlock raised an eyebrow in question. "Shut up. I was doing paperwork when you burst in here and demanded my attention. You don't get to comment."

Sherlock held up his hands in a gesture of submission, or so Molly thought at first. Then he looked, quite obviously, from her to his hands and she realized he was waiting for her to step into his arms. With a hammering heart and feeling like her face was on fire, she stepped around her desk to face him. She put one hand in his and the other around his back, as she felt his hand slide into the curve of her waist. Her head fit perfectly under his chin and she was shocked to hear that his heart was beating almost as fast as her own. Her skin went hot then cold then hot again and she smiled into his chest.

They began to sway back and forth to the gentle music. Molly closed her eyes and prayed to anyone listening that none of her colleagues would choose right now to need something from her.

It was a full few minutes of nothing but the dark of her closed eyes, the gentle swell of the music and the warm unreality of Sherlock holding her before she realized that they had changed positions. Both of Sherlock's hands held her tiny waist and her arms reached as far around his neck as she could manage without standing on her tiptoes. His mouth was down by her ear and she slowly became aware of that fact that his breathing was more controlled than it had been.

"Um, Sherlock?" she murmured, hesitant to break the spell. "The music's stopped."

"Don't care," he said, voice barely above a whisper. She giggled at his breath on her ear.

"I have to finish my paperwork."

"No you don't."

"Actually, I really do. And you have a case to solve, remember?"

"No I don't."

"You do."

He leaned back at looked at her like he was coming out of a dream. Molly thought that she probably looked the same.

"Thank you."

In a moment of bravery, she leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. "It was my pleasure, Sherlock."

"No, Molly," Sherlock said and Molly had a moment of panic, wondering if she had made a horrible mistake. But then Sherlock continued, "The pleasure is mine."

Molly hardly had time to be relieved before she felt Sherlock's lips on hers. Only a brush, hardly a proper kiss at all, but it was enough. When Sherlock pulled away, he looked focused and determined; though Molly couldn't ever remember seeing pupils so dilated before.

"Now, Doctor Hooper, I believe I have a case to solve," he said, moving toward the door.

Molly caught his hand, "I hope you don't think you're getting out of talking about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, winking as he hurried out of the office. "I'll find you later. Text me when you leave and I'll meet you at your flat. We can...talk."

"In that case," Molly said to the place where Sherlock had been, "go and catch me a murderer, Sherlock Holmes."


End file.
